♪ video;

[borntobebard]

[ Having gained some confidence with this fancy tech over the week, Jaskier’s content enough to finally present his baby face to his adoring public, casual in his old school medieval shirt, unlaced to show part of his chest like the total hunk he believes himself to be. He begins with a soft throat clear, his voice carrying like a theatre performer, each word animated. ]

Greetings citizens of Maurtia Falls and beyond! It is I, Jaskier, your beloved bard, here to fill your undoubtedly mundane and murky lives with my brilliant light!

[ A perfect way to introduce himself is to neg everyone listening, right? ]

I seek heroes!

Yes, yes, each and every one of us has been granted such a title, but I require only the best, only the truly worthy among you to share my blessed company. In return, I promise authentic retellings of your adventures to all those that would listen. Stories to make a man weep, songs to get the crowds rejoicing, and poems so passionate that maidens will be lifting their petticoats at the mere mention of your name.

I will consider each applicant in a timely and fair manner, although a drink and some coin as cajolery wouldn’t go amiss.

[ A pause before he quickly admits: ] Bribes. I take bribes.

Thank you, and good day!

Comments

[borntobebard]

Lioness of Cintra? [ Oh right, no one knows personal homeworld references, Jask. ]

A very powerful and quite frankly austere woman. Would just as swiftly kick your arse as slap it. You see, there's nothing that needs changing about it, you keep doing that, seems to work wonders for you, but we just have to ensure everyone else favours it as much as they should. They need to appreciate your deeds rather than your... [ A vague hand gesture towards the camera, at her.]

[killtime]

[ Her bad attitude? Her strong resting bitch face? ]

...I'm keenly averse to being liked.

[borntobebard]

I had noticed.

[ Like. It's really obvious, Andy. ]

That's sort of my point. But we don't need you to be liked, just respected. Appreciated! My music can do that, and also make money at the same time. Did you know people in this world pay actual money to listen to a recording of a voice in their own homes? It's brilliant.

[killtime]

They don't have recordings where you come from? And I thought I was fucking old school.

[borntobebard]

Just travelling troubadours, troupes, criers and the like. News and songs spread by word of mouth, or occasionally via written text for those that were literate. Hearing one's own voice back was something I imagine could only be achieved with magic, but then again, there's not much that can't be achieved by magic, one way or the other.

You're from a different time too?

[killtime]

[ She doesn't answer immediately. Mostly because Andy is a cagey bitch, and even if nothing matters here, old habits die hard.

Finally: ]

Yes and no. I'm old enough to remember troubadours — let's just leave it at that. [ She makes a bit of a face then. ] Magic. You're from one of those universes.

[borntobebard]

Oh, "old enough". So older than you look, I assume? Are you perhaps an elf? A sorceress? Both have the ability to be exceptionally long living.

[killtime]

Plain old fucking human. And therefore probably not the most thrilling subject matter for epic songs.

[borntobebard]

On the contrary, with age undoubtedly comes plenty of grand tales of adventure. You must tell me some! Perhaps over a barrel or two of wine.

[killtime]

A barrel of wine?

You show me a scrawny twink like you can drink a barrel of wine, and I'll tell you whatever the hell you want.

[borntobebard]

Gladly.

[ Even if he falls unconscious after the tenth glass, he'll have had a good time while drinking it. ]

Your place or mine? Although I'm not quite certain where one goes about getting an entire barrel of wine around here...

[killtime]

Yeah?

[ She might sound mildly impressed. He's ballsy or stupid. Both, maybe? ]

Your place. If you get in over your head and throw up on the fucking carpet, my husband will make my ass sleep on the couch.

[borntobebard]

[ Definitely both. Stupidity and over confidence go hand in hand for Jaskier, it's amazing he's still alive, honestly. ]

Perfect, I'll provide the ambience, you bring the wine.

[killtime]

[ Welp. Guess they're doing this. Honestly? Andy's made worse choices in her life. ]

Ambience. Sure. Whatever. I'll be there. [ Dryly: ] Let's see you put your liver where your mouth is.

[borntobebard]

I think I'll manage, but should I die, it'll be to the intoxicating tales of your life. What a truly enchanting way to go.

I'll see you later, perhaps?

--> action

[killtime]

[ There's a fifty-fifty chance that Andy won't show up. It's always hit or miss when it comes to commitment with her — but come the evening, she shows up on his doorstep with a keg, presumably filled with wine. Probably cheap shit, but the alcohol content is high enough to do the trick.

She knocks, then stands back to light a cigarette while she waits. ]

[borntobebard]

[ There's not much of a delay between her knocking and the door being answered, swung open wide to be met with a bard with an equally wide smile, gaze flicking from her to the keg. ]

I was wondering if you'd show, come on in. [ He steps asides to allow her access into the townhouse, sweeping a hand inside in invitation. The decor has plenty of woodwork, a sort of witches home meets carpenter thanks to his roomies. Jaskier has yet to put much of his own stamp on the place, beyond the lute resting by the couch in the lounge. ]

I'd offer you a drink, but you've already got that covered.

[killtime]

[ Dryly: ]

You could still offer me one.

[ She hefts the keg over the threshold — gods, that thing must weigh well over a hundred pounds — and sets it down on the floor on its side, rolling it the rest of the way inside. ]

What the fuck is with all the woodwork?

[ Maybe she shouldn't be smoking in here. ]

[borntobebard]

[ Does he help with moving that hefty barrel into his home? Nope, not even an attempt to aid, he's already vanished off inside to avoid the heavy lifting. What a great host he is. ]

Not sure, really. Hobby of someone's, I believe, makes the place quite quaint though don't you think? Reminds me of home... almost. [ A much cleaner, brighter version. ]

Bring it in here. [ His voice calls from the lounge after he's retrieved two mugs. ]

[killtime]

[ Ah well, Andy doesn't seem to mind it. She just keeps puffing away at her cigarette as she nudges the keg into the lounge, taking her time with tipping it back upright and then pushing open the pressure valve. Can't rush an immortal, right? ]

Real rustic. [ Spoken dryly, like she isn't entirely convinced of the appeal. ] You sure you want to do this? Looking at you in person, I doubt you're going to make it halfway through before you black out.

[borntobebard]

[ He watches the set up eagerly, offering out the two mugs towards her the moment that barrel is upright and ready. He's not sure whether he should be offended by her insistence that he doesn't "look" like a person who can handle this much booze, especially seeing as he's the very image of hardcore boozer, look at that shirt unbuttoned as low as it is, showing off his totally macho chest hair. What a truly capable drinker he is. ]

Well, should I black out, at least you'll be here to care deeply for my self-inflicted pain and potential death. Or... just laugh at it. Honestly, I'm fine with either.

[killtime]

[ To be fair, Andy has a regenerating liver. And centuries of being an alcoholic under her belt. So, can anyone ever truly measure up? ]

Yeah, I didn't really come over to fucking babysit. [ She'll probably be laughing, then — not, of course, that she really seems like the type that laughs. Still, she obligingly takes the mugs from him and fills them from the keg before passing one back, her gaze idly wandering around the place as she does. ] Feels like I've been here before. Think I stopped by to buy drugs once.

[borntobebard]

Oh, brilliant, there's drugs here too? We'll have to sniff those out later.

[ Somehow unaware about any drugs on the property and simultaneously not at all surprised.

He gratefully takes the mug of wine and slurps a taste, nose scrunching just slightly but fuck it, beggars can't be choosers when it comes to the quality of an entire barrel of booze. Instead of making comment, he retreats to the couch like a good boy, perching on the edge. The mug gets precariously balanced on the arm of it as he reaches to settle his beloved lute into his lap instead, one leg crossing over the other to nestle the lute on top so he can casually pluck away at a few melodic notes. ]

You said you'd tell me a bit about yourself...

[killtime]

[ Oh sweet Jaskier, you've been living in Weed Heaven this entire time and been blissfully unaware. But don't worry, that'll make for a little adventure later. In the meantime, Andy's already killed two-thirds of the cheap fermented shit in her own mug. She tops herself off before settling in on the opposite end of the couch. ]

I've been alive for the better part of seven millennia. Where the fuck do you want me to start?

[ Though truthfully, she doesn't remember a good part of it. And nothing says she won't just lie. Andy has been known to do that, now and then. ]

[borntobebard]

[ There's a small, discordant twang as his fingers slip during that reveal, his gaze slowly drifting to Andy with a look that suggests he wrestling with the likelihood of it being truth. ]

Seven Millennia?! I've not even heard of sorceresses living that long.

[ It was, after all, long before the Conjunction of Spheres, which is practically his world's version of BC. ]